Work Text:
The Rust Syndicate was quiet at this time of night. It was unsettling for Corbeau who had always been used to the bustling city outside in alleyways, not protected in this fortress he had only recently called his own.
He had settled into the - no, his - study, draping his overcoat across the desk chair and falling hard into it. Philippe was at the couches to break open a bottle of whiskey that had been left out specifically for celebrations. Corbeau didn’t know how the man wasn’t sideways yet, they’d been running around all day dealing with other gangs that were threatening their territory now that Corbeau was in charge of the Rust Syndicate.
Maybe they thought the Rust Syndicate was going to be an easy target now that Corbeau was in charge, but Philippe had said they were stronger than they had ever been before. That didn’t stop Corbeau from feeling the effects of their tirades: blood pooled into his feet from walking around the city all day, and that left him light-headed and desperate for sleep.
He could have told Philippe to leave for the night, they both needed the rest, but Philippe was already pouring out their whiskey into two glasses he had fetched. He poured two fingers of whiskey, though his fingers were as thick as cigars, and the glass was half-filled by the time he was finished.
This was the first time Philippe had come in to settle with him for the night, the man typically maintained a strict level of professionalism that Corbeau appreciated on most levels. But tonight was different.
“Want a drink with me?” Philippe asked, settling back into his seat. The couch cushions groaned in protest. Corbeau sighed to himself and pushed himself up off his chair with a grunt, feeling two decades older with how fatigued he was. He perched next to Philippe on the couch, as he always did. During meetings with other gangs, it was important to have his lieutenant close. One wrong move from anyone and Philippe could be anywhere in an instant to protect him.
Corbeau hadn’t kicked that habit when they were alone. He didn’t see a reason to.
Philippe handed him a drink. Their hands brushed against each other as the glass was passed over, and they both drank a sip. It burned on the way down. Corbeau wasn’t used to the feeling yet, he only recently had started drinking since it was common in their circles too and he refused to be seen as weak in any way, especially in something as simple as drinking.
“The deal today went well.” Corbeau said.
“It did. I’m glad we were able to complete it without any conflict from either side. You’ve been doing well boss.” Philippe said back. It was stilted, the type of comment made from a subordinate that wouldn’t cause any tension.
“It’s been fine.” Corbeau took another sip of his drink and it stung. He wished it had ice in it. “I’m just looking forward to a day where we can relax a bit.”
Philippe huffed. “There’s no relaxing in this line of work.”
“I’m coming to realize that.” Corbeau said and they devolved into a stilted silence again. Philippe wasn’t much of a talker and Corbeau was trying his best to remain upright. He leaned deeper into the couch. It was quite uncomfortable but better than keeping his usual perfect posture.
It was just Philippe with him right now, he could unwind a bit. He knew Philippe wouldn’t spread any nasty rumors about him if he drank more than needed. The man was loyal in every way that mattered, unlike some characters he’d had the displeasure of mingling with before. He took another long sip to stop old faces from surfacing in his mind.
“How did you come to meet with Lysandre? I don’t think I’ve asked.” Philippe said. Corbeau realized he had moved a bit closer. He hadn’t noticed when he did that, maybe when he was zoning out. The room was already turning fuzzy around the edges, a backdrop to Philippe at his forefront.
“Well, he’s always been quite the businessman. He’s liked investing in things with a decent ROI, it’s in his nature.”
“As do all businessmen.”
“Quite so. He took me under his wing when I was young and running around these streets before the current developments were fully planned through the city. Some people needed guides throughout the more sketchy parts of the area, and contracts were available to scare off wild Pokemon from construction sites and populated areas.” Corbeau grabbed his drink and downed half the glass in one large swing, the direct attention from Philippe always made him nervous.
“He gave me access to new clients, his network of connections from the more affluent members of Kalos society.”
“Did you keep in touch with them?” Philippe asked.
“Not as much as I’d expected. They were…uninterested in most developments across the city. They cared about their new shopping districts, not the misplaced pokemon they were going to disturb by building those awful flat buildings.”
Corbeau had only just realized that he had been talking forever about himself. Now of course he did like that, he loved talking about himself but he had been rambling for so long now it was surely past midnight and he had - Arceus - his glass was empty now, he should probably stop himself.
He had been gesturing with his glass the whole time, a tell he only had when he was a bit too deep into his drink. Philippe plucked the glass from his hand and set it down, settling closer to Corbeau.
The boss blinked once. His mind had been wiped clean because Philippe was so close now. Philippe’s hand was between them on the couch and Corbeau couldn’t help but glance at it every moment.
Corbeau could smell his cologne now that had been worn down from the day, a rich cedar that was as stable and unopposing as the man that wore it.
He needed to focus on something else. He needed to ask a question to get the attention off him.
“How did you meet Lysandre? That is how I started talking about myself right? It’s only right for me to ask you as well.” Corbeau asked with a shaky grin.
“Oh, well. I didn’t meet him so much as he threatened me into coming to his office.” Philippe said as he downed the rest of his glass in one gulp. Corbeau smiled a bit too wide.
“That sounds like him.”
“I know that now. He was looking for the leader of the Rust Syndicate after my pa died and he went through so many backchannels trying to find me it felt like I was being hunted by the international police.” Philippe chuckled at his own joke.
“So I go to the Team Flare office and already I’m sweating like crazy. I already had so many bills piling up from before then that I was drowning in paper.” Philippe picked up the bottle and took another heavy handed pour into his glass. Philippe tipped the bottle towards Corbeau’s cup and the boss nodded, watching another generous amount flow in. He was trying to get Corbeau in trouble now.
“Lysandre was fair. He knew what the Rust Syndicate had been through with all the construction in Lumiose and cut me a good deal on a loan. He’s fair when he wants to be but it didn’t last forever. I couldn’t make payments, the interest piled up and,” he stopped abruptly. He took a swig of his glass swiftly and cleared his throat.
“And then you came in.” He finished.
Philippe’s hand kept shifting in circles, moving his glass in the same circular pattern and gazing into it as if it held all the answers he needed. He had stopped talking, and let his last sentence hang over them in the silence.
“Your father,” Corbeau started to fill the void, “what was he like?”
Philippe perked up a bit. Corbeau had also known men who had died in their line of work; it was the nature of handling dangerous people and Pokemon on a daily basis. People came and left and Corbeau vowed to never become too attached to those he interacted with, even Lysandre in the end had disappeared without a word.
Philippe sat up straighter on the couch with a sigh but he seemed more relaxed now.
“My father wanted me to be a better leader than him. That’s all he ever wanted me to be. He would say, ‘Philippe you’re a smart boy, I’ll make sure to teach you everything I know some day.’” Philippe’s voice grew even deeper when he talked in his father’s cadence. Corbeau stayed quiet and unmoving.
“The construction in the city started. All these smaller groups kept moving into our territory, upending everything that pa had built so hard to achieve. He was losing men on a daily basis, we ran a skeleton crew for years while the rest of the city was being built up.” He had yet to look up from his glass, and before he spoke again his grip tightened on his glass enough for it to creak.
“Then, this gang moved in from out of town, some place out north where the only way to get what they wanted was through roughing people up. My pa had met them at their base - just himself since we were still stretched thin - and they killed him in a back alley somewhere. I had to step up and lead the next day since no one else could. Nearly fell apart until Lysandre came in and now… here I am.” He shrugged, as if the whole thing was just some simple story he was telling.
Corbeau had taken a few more sips of his whiskey and the world was fading around them until it narrowed to just Philippe and him on the couch. Their knees knocked together and both of them looked down and up at the same time.
“Y’know I thought you were such a pain in my side the first time I met you. Lysandre had talked a big game out of you and he was right.” Philippe said. The words reverberated through his skull. Corbeau couldn’t stop his ears from blooming red. He brought his glass to his mouth, trying to cover his face and watched a kaleidoscope of Philippes through his glass. Too many eyes, too much attention.
“Stop that sappy nonsense.” Corbeau warned. Philippe’s lips turned up, all of them, to smile at him.
“It’s true. Then I met you and I thought you were the scrawniest loan shark I'd ever seen. I mean, you couldn’t intimidate a Litleo even if you tried.” He let out a rolling laugh before Corbeau had a chance to snap back. He’d never heard Philippe laugh like that before, a deep rumble that hit Corbeau through his core. He wanted to hear it again and again through a million different mouths and expressions.
“You bested my men and I every time we saw each other, I knew you were more fit to run the Rust Syndicate than me. I knew…you were a better fit than I was at my own job.” His arm had lifted and settled right behind Corbeau on the couch, fingers dangling on Corbeau’s shirt just enough for the boss to feel heavy fingers through his jacket.
“You’re giving me too much praise, you’ve done the heavy lifting so far. I just gave you…direction.” Corbeau said. Philippe hummed.
“Maybe so, but it was hard to worry about directions when I was drowning so much.”
Corbeau didn’t have anything to say to that. He downed the rest of his drink and set it down with more force than necessary against the table.
“I’ve drank too much..” He said. His tongue was heavy in his mouth and his eyelids drooped. It felt like gravity was affecting him twice over, he was listing towards the only solid thing around him: Philippe. Their shoulders hit.
“Do you need me to carry you to your room?” Philippe asked. Corbeau couldn’t see his face but he could hear a smile on his lips. He didn’t have the strength to tell him to stop, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.
“No. No, I’m fine. I just need a minute. Here.” Philippe’s arm easily curled in to rest on Corbeau’s arm. He ran his hand up and down Corbeau’s sleeve, leaving a wake of static wherever it touched. Corbeau doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this, just being safe in someone else’s arms. He turned into Philippe’s side and leaned his head against his collar.
“You’re going to fall asleep here.” Philippe whispered.
“Mm. Wake me up then.” Corbeau muttered and Philippe took that as a challenge. He felt Philippe’s hand tighten on his shoulder before swiftly moving to his neck. He tilted Corbeau’s neck up as much as he could and leaned in just long enough for Corbeau to tilt away if he wanted to. He didn’t. Philippe brushed their noses against each other and finally sealed a kiss in one seamless motion.
It was shy and soft, with chapped lips and the taste of whiskey on both of their lips. Corbeau’s eyes fluttered open before squeezing shut again. The whole world was spinning, and Corbeau reached up with shaky hands and took Philippe’s jacket.
He hadn’t imagined this kiss to go this way. He hadn’t imagined it at all before this night. His heart thumped rapidly against his chest as Philippe moved a hand up to cradle Corbeau’s head. Their heads twisted and collided further in a mix of smooth skin and whiskey-taste that made Corbeau’s head spin further.
Philippe pulled back just for a moment and Corbeau chased his mouth. “Is this okay?” Philippe croaked out before Corbeau was on his mouth again, half in Philippe’s lap.
Lysandre had told him to avoid any sort of interactions like this. His mentor always told him he was going to get hurt. People died or left, or just fell apart. But Philippe felt so real, so steady against him that it must be impossible for him to leave.
They stayed in each other’s orbit for so long that the time sank into the deep hours of the night. Corbeau could have slept like this, content with having Philippe’s hands running across his body constantly.
Philippe was the first to lean back and push his forehead against Corbeau’s. He looked wrecked. Philippe’s face was flushed a cherry red, deeper than Corbeau had ever seen on him, and Corbeau knew his hair was a mess from huge hands gripping it constantly. Their breaths shook and mingled in rhythm, neither of them moved back just yet.
“You’ve never kissed anyone have you?” Philippe asked. It wasn’t a tease, he was just checking to see if he was correct.
“No, I haven’t.” Corbeau confirmed.
“Well then I’ll have to teach you everything about it.” Philippe said. He pulled Corbeau against his chest and leaned back against the couch so the boss was laying on him, a hand across his back.
“But first, I’m tired.” He said. It was the first time Corbeau had ever heard him admit to it before. “I know you are too." Philippe added.
“I am.” Corbeau admitted. He shifted deeper into Philippe’s bulk, putting his lips against the shell of his ear.
“Don’t think this means you can go and run all over me while we’re out in the field.” Corbeau muttered, drifting deeper into sleep. When Philippe chuckled in return Corbeau could feel it vibrate through his whole body.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said before they both drifted off into sleep.
If, in the morning, the grunts noticed how close they walked, or how Philippe let his hand settle at the small of Corbeau’s back as they went, well, that was between them.